


Your Hand in Mine

by Elerie



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Frisk, Insomnia, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Memory Loss, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PTSD, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert, Romance, Scientist W. D. Gaster, Slow Burn, The Void, Time Travel, Timeskips, Void stuff, Weird time stuff, post chara death, pre-barrier fall, reader is female, resets are a thing, some body horror, some void horror, takes place during frisks run, unclear intentions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-09 12:56:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14716472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elerie/pseuds/Elerie
Summary: You wake from a weird dream to find yourself in the underground system deep below Mt Ebbot. After traversing through some weird ruins, you are surprised to find that monsters have been living under your city for centuries, trapped below by humans. In a bid to escape the underground, you discover that a few days before you fell a small child also tumbled into the depths below. Can you escape together? Or is there more to them than meets the eye.





	1. And in the beginning there was nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Hi buds, this is my first ever piece of fanfiction. I'm hoping to get this updated once per week, but no promises. Hope you like it. I'm hoping this will be a long, slow burn with lots of world building.
> 
> Please comment any nice words / constructive criticism you may have.... here we go!

Most people experience some form of sleep paralysis in their lives; whether it’s a shadow dipping in and out of their peripheral vision or something sinister sitting on top of their chests. Everyone has their own creepy story to tell about the horrors that keep their sleep at bay.  
  
Then there is the step beyond sleep paralysis, which is lucid dreaming - where the sleeper has the power to bend and alter their dreams, albeit slightly, making them that little bit more addicting. Often the sleeper will find it difficult to leave their slumbering state; a reluctance to go about their day and the desire to continue the ultimate dream. Not everyone is lucky enough to hone the ability to dream lucidly, it can sometimes take years of practice to get it right.  
  
The one thing everyone has in common is the ability to terrify themselves in their sleep. Nightmares, or night terrors if they’re particularly bad, are an on-and-off plague of the sub-conscious, often drawing on the sleepers most innate worries or fears. It’s a truly cruel act of the brain, to attack its host body with feelings of malevolence.  
  
And yet, there’s one type of dream that not many people experience. That enigmatic in-between dreams that you never remember in the weak morning sunlight. Apparently, a person will spend all night dreaming but only remember the one before they wake. So, what happens to all the others? Do they simply cease to exist? Or perhaps they never truly form, remaining as a blank empty space in the subconscious. A quiet place.  
  
Occasionally, you visit these barren dreams. Whilst you are certain that’s what they were, there was always a feeling that these places were real. Despite being a dark, black, void there was a sense of “solidity” about them. You never saw anything in these dreams, except an endless darkness. A darkness so deep that it elicits a quiver of fear from somewhere in your chest every time you visited. It always roots a strange feeling in you; the darkness is surreal and yet familiar, like glancing into a mirror when it’s too dark to see your reflection.   
  
You open your eyes to find that you’re not at home in your bed, but in this dark space. Usually you’re not here long, a moment or two, before slipping easily into the next dream, but this time, however, the infinite gloom seems to swallow any hope you have of leaving. This is new. Before now you have never had the time to appreciate how truly lonely and sickening such a barren existence can be. It is this feeling of hopelessness that causes a mild panic to tickle all over your skin.   
  
You stretch your arms out in front of you, as if checking your body is still there. Although satisfied that you’re intact, you notice that your skin has a slight shimmer to it, as if someone has crushed up pieces of onyx and sprinkled them across your body. A battle begins to rage within you over whether you should be amazed at the beautiful glint on your arms, or fearful.  
  
_‘What is happening?’_ You are not sure how long you’ve been here. You’re convinced that it’s only been a few moments, but simultaneously it feels like it’s been hours, or even days.  
  
“Don’t panic.”  
  
_‘Huh? Who said that?’_ You drag your gaze away from your arms in the direction of the voice. But there’s nobody there.   
  
“This is most unusual.”  
  
You don’t recognise the voice, in fact you can hardly understand it with its garbled pitch. It reminds you of a radio that hasn’t been tuned correctly. You begin to wonder: _‘what sort of dream is this?’_  
  
“That is almost the correct line of thinking,” the voice replies to you, despite you never forming the words on your lips, “dreaming requires you to…well, be a functioning being. I do believe that you would struggle to dream without even a pulse.”  
  
_‘What!? Am I dead?’_ You are unsure whether this this about to transition into a nightmare.  
  
“Ahh….so close to the truth you could brush it with your fingertips,” a pregnant pause passes between yourself and the disembodied voice, “not literally of course, you can hardly grasp anything in here, even while you have hands.”  
  
A strange sensation floods your body starting from your head washing all the way down to your feet. It doesn’t feel quite like nausea, but does leave a gurgling feeling where your stomach should be. The urge to panic is something you can feel biting at the back of your throat, desperate for you to purge it from your body.  
  
“You need to calm down, emotion causes the degeneration process to accelerate.”  
  
_‘Degeneration process?! Am I going to disintegrate? I need to wake up, I NEED TO WAKE UP.’_  
  
“Unfortunately, finding an exit to this place is beyond my own capabilities, as well as yours” this time the voice has a tone of finality about it, as if it’s words should cease your worries, “however, it is concerning that you are still here. Usually your visits are fleeting.”  
  
You are certain that your face would be paling right now, if it had the ability to do so.   
  
_‘Have we met before?’_ in some ways you were glad that this unseen stranger could read your thoughts. You’re pretty sure that any words you uttered wouldn’t sound as clear.  
  
“You have been here many times, I’m sure you remember that yourself. We have never communicated though, for there has been no need to.” You wait for the voice to continue, but it seems that it’s done speaking. Everything remains quiet. How long for you’re not sure. The feeling of loneliness begins to creep over your body again, like baby spiders exploding from their mother’s back. You want to sob but you’re not even sure that you’re capable of it. After all, you can’t even speak.  
  
“There seems to a problem.” The sudden sound of the voice causes your thoughts to rattle and scatter to the back of your mind.  
  
_‘Who are you?’_ you feel like you’re focusing on the wrong thing.  
  
“You would not know of me, even if I told you. My name does not translate very well into your own tongue.”  
  
_‘How long have you been here?’ Your mind tenses, for you fear you will not like the response._  
  
“That is a difficult question to answer” the honesty surprises you, “for time does not truly matter in here. It could be a matter of seconds, it could be eons.” Before you can respond the voice continues with a question, “before you fell asleep, what year was it?”  
  
The answer should jump to you immediately, but for a moment you find yourself struggling to remember, _‘mmmm…20XX.’_  
  
“Really now? Then that means I have been in here just over twenty years.”  
  
You don’t know how to respond to that. For the first time in your life, your mind is completely blank. How long were you going to be here? Sure, you had experienced these dreams before but you had never felt afraid of them, after all nothing ever happened in them. You had never had the chance to feel the crippling solitude that the void births, and this voice has lived here for over twenty years? You direct your next thought to it: _‘…so that means that every time I come here, you have been here?’_  
  
“Yes. I have seen you every time you appear. After all, there is not much else to look at.”  
  
_‘Why can I not see you?’_  
  
“As I said earlier, the longer you are here the more your body fragments and collapses into itself. I have been waiting to escape for a while, but I must admit that my chances of ever leaving are slim, especially without a body.”  
  
_‘How can I help you?’_ At your words a deep chuckle seems to echo around the entirety of the deep darkness. You’re not sure if it is supposed to sound as sinister as it does.  
  
“My child, I am touched by your kindness but in your current state you cannot even help yourself. You are too weak to help me, though I’m hoping you can eventually. In my entire time here, you are one of the few I have seen, and certainly the only one I have spoken to.”  
  
Wait. What? _‘You have seen others?!’_  
  
The voice seems to be weighing up the decision to answer you or not.  
  
“…Yes. You are the third to come here, you and one other visit very frequently. Though you are the only one who visits me in their dreams, and who comes with clear intentions."  
  
_‘Who are the others?’_  
  
“I cannot answer that, for I simply don’t know. I can only watch them, as they manipulate and change everything over and over again.”  
  
_‘What do you mean?’_  
  
“I mean that they can rese-…” the voice cuts itself short, and you mentally curse at it for not answering you completely.  
  
_‘Hey?!’_  
  
“It is time for you to go. Can you not feel your world pulling you back? Even I can feel it somewhat, and it is not calling for me.”  
  
_‘Wait! What’s so special about the other visitors?!’_  
  
“Fret not, my child. It will all be clear eventually. This time, everything is going to be a bit different. Please try not to forget about me.”  
  
You want to shout, scream, yell at the voice. The frustration at the lack of answers is itching in your throat, but soon the sensation begins to ebb away when you feel a tug on your abdomen. You feel as if your body is being tugged upwards, as if riding a free-fall coaster, and it’s only when you glance above you that you can see a softly glowing light overhead.  
  
There is something comforting about the light; it throbs with a soft green hue. As you slowly drift closer to it, you feel your body relax as a sense of calm washes over you. You’re not sure how, but you have an innate feeling of safety the nearer you get to the green light.  
  
As it comes in to view, you can see that the light is heart shaped, not like anatomical heart, but akin to something a child would draw. Along with its shape, it beats it a similar fashion to the organ itself, and with each pulse the green hue becomes more bright and brilliant, almost blinding you.  
  
Something within you tells you touch it, to enclose your hand around it and never let go. Your fingers slowly inch around it’s curving circumference and despite not knowing what the outcome will be, you slowly pull the heart into your chest as if to reunite with it.  
  
Suddenly, the darkness of the void is interrupted by a brilliant explosion of white light, that seems to bathe you in a soft, healing glow. You can feel your body burning slightly in the heat, but you’re surprised to find that it isn’t painful. Your head feels empty, and with a strange sense of “newness”, like the feeling of being reborn.  
  
With your body humming hot from the illumination, you pass out.


	2. Ignorance is the root and stem of all evil.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good morning, this is your wake up call.
> 
> ~
> 
> Comment to me know what you think! Follow me on Tumblr Elerie :)

In the youth of morning the sun can be surprisingly strong and fierce, particularly at the strength that you find shining down across your face. You murmur sighs of displeasure as the beams prickle at your cheeks and warm your eyelashes, drawing you out of your deep slumber.  
  
A small frown knits your eyebrows together and you roll over on to your stomach, “Ha, that should stop you from shining now, mister sun!” you mutter, voice still thick from sleep. As you shift your weight, it becomes all too clear that the bed beneath you is not your normal mattress, but a flowerbed. Marigold coloured petals tickle at your nostrils and you get a wonderful smell of honey as you inhale the scent.  
  
_‘Did I fall asleep in the garden again?’_ the thought wasn’t too unusual; after all, the number of times you’ve woken up on the grass after falling asleep in a sun chair, and then consequently falling out of said lounger, is probably higher than the average human.  
  
Unwilling to push yourself up just yet, you let your eyelashes take control of the situation; keeping up a steady blinking rhythm to wink the sleep residue out of your eyes. Perhaps once you’re able to see without a layer of gunk sticking your eyelids together you can get a better grasp of what the hell is actually going on.  
  
Still unwilling to move, you sink further into the bed of petals, the heads peeking out around your form like a floral boarder.  
  
_‘Wow…it’s as if I’m attending my own funeral.’_  
  
But, why are you just lying here like this? Why can’t you hear any birds in the trees above, or noise pollution from the busy street? In fact, why can’t you hear anything? Maybe it’s the connotations of death, or the suffocating silence, but you find your pulse racing and it’s then you realise you’re afraid. Afraid of being back in that dream.  
  
Concentrating your energy to your torso, you propel upwards into a sitting position with your legs stretched out in front and your palms flat on the ground to act as an anchor. As you turn your head side to side, taking in your surroundings, you can feel your messy and unkempt hair kissing at the sensitive spots on your face. The feeling of confusion creeps back with an unwelcome familiarity, you seem to forever be in a state of unwanted isolation.  
  
You find yourself in a deep circular cave, with smooth walls that look impossible to climb. Although the darkness is similar to the dream you’ve just awoken from, the svelte stream of light bores down from the ceiling above and settles your nerves slightly.  
  
“At least I’m awake…” you say to no-one, but that doesn’t explain where you are or how you got here. “What have I been doing?” you bite your lip with uncertainty, peeling some of the skin from the plumper part.  
  
All you can remember is that dream. Nothing before. Where do you live? What’s your name even? Hazy recollections drift in your mind, but you can’t slot it together properly, like doing a jigsaw puzzle but missing half the pieces.  
  
You run your hands over your body, hoping that you fell asleep with your mobile in your pocket. Butterflies dance in your stomach when you feel the familiar shape and your fingers make quick work of pulling it out to unlock it. For a moment you’re concerned that you won’t remember the password but you feel a grin tug at the corner of your lips when you find it’s unlocked already.  
  
The excitement is short-lived though, typically the phone has no signal.  
  
_‘Obviously it doesn’t have signal you idiot, you’re in a bloody cave!’_ your frown returning as you curse at the stupid idea of calling for help, _‘still, maybe something in here will jog my memory’_ you dare to hope.  
  
With a few taps, the phone book has popped open on the screen, but there’s no-body there.  
  
“What. The fuck?”  
  
All your contacts have gone, although you can’t remember any specific names or numbers, you’re certain that they existed at some point, didn’t they?  
  
You feel a growl rumble from your throat, “How could I be so stupid?! How did I get myself into this fucking situation?!”  
  
Dread skulks up your body and settles around your neck and shoulders like an ugly scarf. You’re trapped here, and you don’t even remember how you got here. The determination to escape this place slowly ebbs from within you.  
  
Suddenly, you feel movement at your feet. Flower petals brush against the skin above your socks causing it to pimple at the sensation.  
  
“Fuck. There’s probably rats down here or something,” although rats had never scared you, the thought of them running over your unconscious body does not fill you with ease. “Who are you calling a rat?” an acidic voice spits back.  
  
The sound of another voice does not comfort you as initially would be expected. You straighten your back in fear, like an animal trying to appear larger than they are to scare off predators.  
  
“W-who’s there?” your voice sounds meek in the echoing cave.  
  
“W-who’s t-there?” the voice mimics, “Stars, humans sure are pathetic, huh? Look down here, idiot.” As instructed, you turn your gaze towards your shoes and the yellow foliage. It takes a few seconds to realise that one of the flowers is slightly larger than the others… and it has a face.  
  
“I must still be dreaming” you mutter, blinking a couple more times.  
  
“If you were dreaming,” the flower hisses “I would be your worst nightmare.”  
  
You eye the plant worriedly, you must have seriously hit your head when you fell from the hole above. “I’m insane. I am actually insane. I’ve gone insane and now I’m talking to a flower.” You voice repeats rapidly. If you weren’t crazy, you sure sounded it.  
  
The flower watches you with an expression that you can’t read, and not just because it’s a piece of foliage.  
  
“You’re not Frisk,” it mutters darkly.  
  
“..Frisk?”  
  
“…you’re…not frisk” the flower repeats, looking down at it’s own leaves as if they’re hands. “But, there was a reset…I thought it was a hard reset but…”  
  
You clear your throat. Just because you’ve lost your mind, doesn’t mean your own hallucinations can keep you in the dark. “Umm, I don’t really know what’s going on, but I’d like to go home now.”  
  
The thin line that you assume is the flower’s mouth turns to a sinister grimace, with jagged teeth protruding from it’s thin mouth, “This is the underground, you can’t just leave.”  
  
You feel your eyes widen at the flower’s words, “W-what? The Underground? I mean, I know I’m in a cave but I can’t be that far down?”  
  
“No, you complete idiot” the plant chastises, “the Underground is the name of YOUR new home. You don’t remember anything about the surface do you?”  
  
You pause at the comment. Come to think of it, you couldn’t remember anything. You knew you had a home on the surface, but what else? Did you live alone? With parents? Did you live in a flat or a house? What feels like important details have seemingly been erased from your mind.  
  
“Ha! I knew it. You know nothing. That means you’re stuck down here like the rest of us!” The plant’s mirth dances in it’s words, making fear ripple through your stomach.  
  
“Please tell me how to get out of here,” you beg.  
  
“Okay,” the flower grins, “I’ll help you. First of all, my name is Flowey. Flowey the flower, and things work differently here compared to up there.”  
  
Flowey’s sudden change in attitude causes the hair on your arms to raise, _‘this doesn’t seem good,’_ you think.  
  
“These are friendliness pellets,” Flowey continues, as it summons small, white orbs that slowly spin in a circle around its head, “you need to collect as many friendliness pellets as possible in order to escape past the barrier.”  
  
_‘Barrier?’_ you wonder.  
  
“If it’s that easy why don’t you just leave?” you ask, sounding cheekier than you meant to.  
  
“Never mind that” Flowey urges, “just run into the pellets and you’ll have enough EXP to leave.”  
  
With trembling hands, you push yourself up off the floor and stagger to your feet. You don’t like the way Flowey is looking at you, and you don’t like the way he suddenly wants to help you. You feel like you should run. You feel like you should run and get as far away from whatever this Flowey thing is.  
  
“Yeah, that’s right, now just grab the pellets,” Flowey grins, waving it’s little leaves at you, pushing the pellets through the air with an unseen force.  
  
For too long you stare at the white bullets coming towards you, willing your legs to run, jog, hell, even stroll away at leisurely pace, but it isn’t until the last moment that you break out into a sprint.  
  
“Where are you going?” you hear the voice call out, before it cackles with delight, sending another wave of white bullets in your direction.  
  
As you run through the cave you feel the ground rumble under your feet, causing you to stumble with unsteady footing. Yards in front of you, thorny vines burst from the ground below. At the last second you manage to leap over the thick roots, but you feel the sharpened spikes rip at your ankles and skin. You gasp in pain, but keep running with a slight limp to your gait.  
  
Above your head, more white bullets pop against the rocky ceiling and dislodge some large boulders, causing you to glance behind you as they fall with a thud where you once stood. Your leg is beginning to throb, but there is no way in hell you’re stopping while this THING is chasing you.  
  
‘What the actual living hell have I got myself into this time?’ you think, as your lungs burn from the lack of breath, _‘this plant is going to chase me right into a chasm.’_  
  
Just when it feels like you’ve been running forever, you see a pale light in the distance. _‘The surface!’_ you dare yourself to think, but behind you Flowey calls out, tauntingly “You think you can escape from here? If you think I’m bad, just wait till the other monsters find you.”  
  
Ignoring the flower’s words, you break out in a sprint. Your thigh muscles working harder than they ever have before. As the light ebbs closer, it’s clear that it isn’t an exit to the surface but a softly glowing lantern, peeking out from the window of a house. The sight of such a cute home nestled into the walls of the cave fills you with determination, and your pace picks up significantly.  
  
When you reach the large, and quite imposing, cottage you pound your hands hurriedly against the wooden front door.  
  
“P-please! Please! Let me in! I need help, please!” you cry, fear evident in your voice. You try twisting the doorknob, internally begging that the person on the other side of the door will understand the intrusion, but the door remains stuck.  
  
The floor underneath you begins to vibrate and quake with wild ferocity. This was it. You are going to die. You are going to die and there was so much left you haven’t experienced yet. You are going to die without even remembering who your parents are.  
  
As you stand in front of the house, tears streaming from your clenched eyelids, you feel a pair of soft and strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you inside the cottage and slam the door shut.


	3. For it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this! I had it saved as a draft and didn't realise I didn't publish it.... and then it got deleted for being over a month old...
> 
> Anyway here we go...

It takes you a while to get a grasp on your surroundings as your eyes can’t seem to focus on anything but the wooden floor. All the blood in your body has rushed to your head, giving you a pounding headache, or perhaps it was just the hammering of your heart in your chest.

For a moment you just stand there, listening to your pulse slamming erratically due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins. The roar in your ears is so loud that it doesn’t even register that somebody is talking to you until they give you a vigorous shake on the shoulder.

“Dear, are you quite alright?” the voice asks you with tender concern.

As you feel your heartbeat drop into a steady thu thum rhythm, you’re suddenly aware that you’re still alive. Flowey didn’t rip you into a thousand tiny shreds, or squash you with a mighty boulder. You’re alive, and it’s all thanks to someone who you haven’t even given the courtesy to thank yet.

“Oh dear, I think you’ve gone into shock, I’ll fetch you some tea,” heavy feet pad away from you into a room on your left. You lift your head in the same direction, but they’ve already disappeared into what you assume is the kitchen. 

Glancing around at your new surroundings, you’re surprised to find it’s quite homely. The walls are painted in a pleasant shade of cream which match the floorboards. Directly in front of you is a staircase descending in to what is most likely the basement, which seems a bit unusual but you shrug it off. Above the stairs hangs a mirror, displaying how truly awful you look. Your hair is unkempt and knotted from sleeping on the cave floor and the lacerations on your skin from where Flowey cut you have already started to shine and ooze with puss.

You run a hand over your hair and try to smooth it into place, you don’t want your saviour to think they’ve let some sort of wild woman into their house. 

…

On the other hand, what kind of person lives down in a cave anyway? Sure, they might have saved you from some kind of psychotic flower demon, but nobody of sound mind would willingly live underground, would they?

You don’t have time to have a complete meltdown because you can hear gentle humming growing louder from the room on your left. In the large archway appears a very tall and sturdy looking bipedal goat lady. Her fur is white and pristine, despite living in such an unpleasant cave, and looks softer than any material you’ve ever felt. She looks at you with big brown eyes full of concern, and any fears you had about being murdered in this house squash instantly.

“I have brought you some tea, Dear. It is to help you with shock. Come, you can sit in here while you drink it,” her warm voice beckons you into the room she just disappeared into.

Being the polite house guest that you are, you wipe your feet on the rug in front of the door before following. You already look like hell, no point in dirtying up this goat lady’s house too.

The next room is a combination of a lounge and a dining room. A simple dining table with three chairs stand on the left side of the room, with a pretty flower centre piece. On the northern wall is a cosy fire that crackles and spits embers onto the large hearthstone, warming the large squishy armchair placed in front of it. If the wide bookshelf gives any indication, you’d say it was the perfect place to curl up with a good book.

The goat lady stands next to the armchair with an expectant look on her kind face. Feeling slightly awkward, you shuffle into the room and sink into the soft cushion.

“Welcome to my home, my dear. My name is Toriel,” the voice to your right sings, as she bustles over the dining table to retrieve a large yellow mug of tea.

You give a small smile as you accept the mug from her, and answer with your own name. She nods in response and looks over your scarred skin, “My dear, you are badly hurt.” 

She places a paw on the crown of your head, and before you can protest at the intrusion, you feel a warm sensation flood your body. For a moment, it’s as if your scars shimmer with a green hue before they disappear completely.

“W-what did you do?” you say, dumbfounded.

“It is a simple bit of healing magic, my dear. You should not scar.”

_‘Magic?! First talking plants and now magic?! Where am I exactly?’_

Toriel’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, “that misguided plant is out for retribution it seems.” Even when frowning, her face remains kind and pleasant. It doesn’t even dawn on you that a giant goat walking on two legs is not a normal sight.

“It’s done this before?” you ask her.

Toriel looks at you with surprise. Her widened eyes scour your face for something, but you’re not sure what. “You…you did not come here with Frisk?” she questions.

 _‘There’s that name again…Frisk. Who is Frisk?’_ you wonder.

Sensing your confusion Toriel continues with a hum, “it seems that you do not know of who I speak of?” You shake your head in response.

“This is most unusual,” she mutters to herself as she smooths out creases of her pretty purple smock, as if ironing out her worries. 

“My dear, humans do not often fall down here. Mt.Ebott can be an extremely dangerous terrain, not many traverse it,” she says, as if slightly scolding you for being so foolish, “hundreds of years can pass by before the next one falls.”

_‘Hundreds of years?!’_

“W-what?! How is that possible? How old are you?” a blush deepens on your cheeks, you realise how rude the question sounds the moment it leaves your lips.

Seeing the dusting of pink on your cheeks, Toriel laughs heartily “Don’t fret so much my dear, the question is understandable given the life span of humans. I am a few centuries old.”

You stare down at your mug of untouched tea in horror, _‘A few centuries old? And I thought being in my mid-twenties was getting on a bit.’_ You take a gulp of tea, feeling like you need the sugar. The taste is sweet, but unlike any tea you’ve ever had before.

“This is good,” you mention, as if to distract yourself.

Toriel beams back at you, “It is Golden Flower tea,” Toriel can see the look of horror on your face, after all you did just have to run for your life from a certain golden flower, “you need not look so worried, the flowers that brew the tea are grown in my own home.”

You nod in response, but are determined to get answers out of Toriel, “Excuse me, this may seem rude but in the circumstances, I’m not really sure what is appropriate or not, but, what is this place? I have never met anybody like… well… like you before.”

Toriel’s eyes soften at your words and she places a big soft paw on your shoulder, “This is the Underground, my dear, and you are in my home in the ruins. Many, many, many moons ago the surface was populated with humans and monsters, like myself. We lived in harmony for centuries, but then malicious rumours began to spread and fears were birthed. Humans began to mistrust monsters, and their councils refused to intervene when our people were attacked in the streets.”

“Back then, monsters were not natural fighters, and even now only a special kind of monster has the true will to fight. Eventually, a war broke out between the two species, and it became clear quite quickly than monsters were on the losing side, and so we were banished to the underground. Seven human mages sealed the exit with a powerful magical barrier, that can only be broken by an incredibly strong being.”

Silence falls between the two of you. Toriel’s speech replaying over, and over in your head. _‘Could humans really be that bad?’_ you wonder, _‘to banish an entire species of people under the ground?’_ You dispel the thought with a shake of your head, _‘of course they can. Wars break out all the time over religion, skin colour, race. Why wouldn’t it over an entire population that is so fundamentally different from humans?’_

You glance up from the mug in your hands and look Toriel in the eyes, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what my people have done. No-body deserves that, no matter what the reason.”  
Toriel smiles at you weakly, “that is not something you need to concern yourself with. The people who banished us have long since gone. I doubt there is many, if any, mages above to even remember that we are living below. The surface.”

You hum thoughtfully at her words. Witches and magic have been embedded in human history for hundreds of years, across many different cultures. Admittedly, in your country no-one believed in them anymore, but maybe there were some out there.

You suddenly remember something, “Who is Frisk?”

Toriel winces as if your words are sharpened daggers, you can tell by the look on her face she is reluctant to answer you. “My dear, as I mentioned previously, humans do not fall down here often. Typically, there is a few hundred years between each fall…” she pauses for a moment, as if considering something, “…but you are not the only human to fall this week.”

You raise your eyebrows at her words, ‘so there’s some other poor fool who is stuck down here with me? Maybe we can work together to find a wa-‘ you interrupt your own thoughts, “Hey, well if somebody else fell down here, where are they?”

With a heavy sigh, Toriel moves away from you and takes a seat in one of the wooden chairs in front of the dining table.

“They left the ruins. They were determined to leave and find a way home. I begged them not to leave, for it is dangerous for a human, especially a child.”

“Wait? Frisk is a child?” you ask.

Toriel nods at your question, “Yes, you see, you are the first human to fall down who is not a child. I can sense that you are still in the early stages of your life cycle, but you are by no means a child.”

You spring to feet abruptly, “If there is a child running around on their own, I have to help them!” Maternal instincts were not something that came naturally to you, but you can’t deny that a lost child in a cave is something that makes you feel nauseous.

The look on Toriel’s face tells you that she is going to protest, but instead she shakes her head sadly. “I would normally stop you from leaving the ruins, but you are not a child and I cannot keep you here, despite how much it would be for you own good. Perhaps you can succeed where I failed. Frisk is a very determined child who will not take no for an answer. I wanted to keep them here, keep them safe, but they convinced me to let them leave.”

“Toriel, I mean no offence, but the ruins aren’t exactly safe either. I mean, I nearly got mangled by that flower!” you exclaim.

She shakes her head again, “That is why I wanted Frisk to remain here, with me. They would have been safe in this house where I could protect them. Frisk is a docile child who doesn’t want to fight, not like a typical human, they won’t last long out there.”

“What makes the underground so dangerous? I thought you said that it isn’t in a monster’s nature to fight,” the words slip out before you realise the connotations behind them, but Toriel doesn’t look affronted. 

“There are things I have not yet told you,” she sighs heavily, “when the seven mages cast their spell to seal us below, the only way to lift it is to break through the barrier with the power of seven souls. To obtain a soul, it must be drawn out of the host body. This means that either the host must die, or be drawn out in battle. Either way, it takes a powerful being to absorb an abandoned soul. Both humans and monsters have souls, in the case of monsters, it is the accumulation of our entire being…”

Toriel pauses, and begins to fiddle with a white doily on the table.

“…it took many experiments, but the King of Monsters and the Royal Scientist both learned that monster souls are inadequate for this purpose. After a monster dies, their soul shatters and their bodies turn to dust. Nothing is left. This is different from a human soul, which can remain outside of a host body for indefinite periods of time, as long as it’s contained properly.”

Toriel shifts her gaze back to you, pouring over you with concern, “I’m sorry, my dear, this must be very troubling for you, would you like to me stop?”

_‘Yes.’_

“N-no, please continue” you gulp, and sink back down into the armchair.

“Well,” Toriel murmurs, “after the experiments failed, the King of Monsters declared that any human that should fall from the surface would be killed, and their soul would be kept safe until seven souls could be used to break the barrier.”

“H-how are the souls used?” you ask, feeling rather sick at the revelation.

“Monsters are able to absorb human souls,” Toriel says simply, “it is why the humans came to fear us so much in the first place. Although a monster can absorb a human soul, your average monster would not be able to control it. It would be too powerful.”

“So…so what will happen.”

“The Royal Guard has displayed despicable actions and overseen the murder of every poor, innocent child that has fallen down here. It’s not enough that I have lost so much already, each time a child falls they rip them away from me, for their own selfish needs.” 

You look at Toriel with surprise, the acidity in her voice shocking you. 

“I do not condone the death of a child, even if it means the freedom of the entirety of monster kind,” she says with some finality.

“W-where, does this leave Frisk?” you ask.

“You must find them and help them escape from here. Those with very strong determination can break through the barrier. I… I cannot tell if your soul is determined, but I know Frisk’s is. I know they are not your responsibility, but please promise you’ll help them.”

Deep down you know that most people would say no; this child isn’t your problem to go out of your way to protect, you should focus on your own escape...

...but when you look at her soft, gentle face, the desire to spurn her melts away.

“Okay,” you say simply, “tell me how I can find them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the story / world building, we should be meeting some of our favourites soon. ;)


End file.
